


The Art of Stalking

by orphan_account



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Estel has decided that he wants to become a ranger and the first logical step towards perfect rangerness is to master the art of stalking. Estel fails to sneak up on Elladan and Elrohir, but they agree to teach him how to stalk properly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Stalking

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in '03.

Tiny, olive-green plant shoots press their way urgently from the newly unfrozen earth, reaching their delicate green leaves towards the meager early season sunshine. Buds held fast to their coverings on the trees, awaiting the right moment to shed away the protection and embrace spring. But the sunlight, however meager, was a welcome thing in Rivendell who had just endured a particularly harsh winter. It drew the residents from their homes and allowed windows and doors to be opened so that rooms might be aired out. It drew out mischief as well; at the moment in the form of two identical elven twins sharing a plate of warm, sweet-biscuits stolen from the kitchens, and a bottle of snitched fruit wine. Elladan and Elrohir had managed to slip out of archery practice for a few hours, and decided that they deserved a more elaborate luncheon than usual, taken in a secluded, sunny corner of the garden, near a large birch.

"Hardly Elrohir," The elder twin laughed, "She was obviously entranced by me."

Elrohir shook his head, "She was gazing at me."

"Then she must have mistaken you for me."

"No Elladan," He confirmed, taking a long sip from the wine bottle, "She was gazing very much at me."

Elladan cuffed Elrohir's ears, laughing loudly, "And what would she see in you?"

"Manners?"

The laughter continued to ring out into the crisp air, echoing like wind chimes throughout the gardens.

Little beknown to the twins, they were being watched by someone entirely different then that pretty elf maid they were discussing. Crouched in the wild rose bushes behind them was a human boy, about twelve years of age, with a look of trepidation and concentration drawn across his expressive features. He chewed his lower lip and shifted his weight, eliciting a cracking sound from beneath his feet.

Immediately two sets of pointed ears twitched, and grey eyes darted around, until they met each other. Elrohir mouthed the word 'Estel' to his brother, who smiled and pretended that he hadn't heard the crackling even as he gave a conspiratorial wink.

A sudden battle cry, or what could count as a battle cry for a twelve-year-old, came with a flurry of small limbs and uncombed hair. Swiftly, Elladan picked up the plate of biscuits in one hand, and the wine bottle in the other before Estel could make a mess of them. Elrohir, meanwhile, grabbed Estel about his middle and lifted him up at arm's length, inspecting the mud on his tunic with one raised eyebrow. The twelve year old gave a snarl and squirmed until he was set down, all the while attempting to bite his brother.

"Estel.."

"What were you doing?"

"Nothing."

"You were doing something, now tell us what it was. Ere we tell Adar."

"Iwasstalkingyou." He muttered, dragging one foot along the ground, stormy eyes cast to the ground.

"Pardon?"

"I was stalking you so that I can become a ranger."

"A ranger?" Elladan looked to Elrohir, grinning. Ever since a troupe of rangers had stopped to stay in Rivendell for a week, Estel had been taken with the idea of their uninhibited life-style. Indeed, his Dunedain blood was emerging through his Elven upbringing.

The eyes shone with unbridled admiration, "I want to stalk like they do - remember when they came into the Hall of Fire without even Ada noticing?"

"Indeed," Elrohir nodded, "they are as silent as rabbits."

"How did you know where I was?"

"We heard you." Elladan said.

"Oh... how?"

"You humans breathe so loudly.. And you mustn't move at all while stalking, Estel."

"Can you teach me?" He asked, using the expression he knew would get him almost anything he wanted with his brothers.

"Well.." Elrohir pretended to consider, trying to restrain his mirth.

"Why not." Elladan grinned, "We can practice on Glorfindel."

"Let's go!" Cried Estel, grabbing one arm of each of his brothers and dragging them away, the biscuits and wine left forgotten behind them. In their wake a small mouse that lived beneath the birch attempted to drag away a biscuit the size of herself. She heaved and dragged until she had it, then looked at the wine bottle with doubt; that would not fit in her hole.

Glorfindel was having a good day. Most of Glorfindel's good days were attributed to the absence of two particular elves from his archery range and today was no exception to that. The twins had escaped with a weak excuse of having to help their father with something, and Glorfindel had not seen them since. Life was good. Well, besides that he had a group of novice archers this morning, and one particular young elf kept missing the target and had somehow managed to narrowly avoid shooting Glorfindel who was standing /behind/ him. The laws of physics apparently didn't apply when young ones and arrows were involved. A little ways away from the range, it was alarmingly quiet. Perhaps a little too quiet for that matter.

Awareness suddenly increased, and Glorfindel found himself twisting lightning-fast out of the pathway of a charging boy with the reflexes naturally found in elves and honed by years of training. The twelve-year-old's battle cry was cut off with an abrupt "Oomph!" as he struck the training ground, face-first after entirely missing the blond elf lord.

Elladan and Elrohir emerged, shaking their dark heads at their charge's failure.

Elrohir helped Estel up, grimacing at the huge amounts of mud that now covered the boy. He scowled now, and it would seem threatening if not for the dollop of mud that rolled down the left side of his face and splattered on the ground.

Glorfindel's question had now been answered. And, luckily, the twins had not done anything too horrible, or so it seemed. At least no personal harm had come to him, although Elrond may have something to say about the tunic Estel wore. On top of the grass and dirt stains that already spotted the dark red garment, a growing mud stain was smeared across the front. Yet that was not his doing. Glorfindel thought that he might as well try to figure out what had happened. "Explain yourselves."

"We are teaching Estel-"

"-how to stalk."

"But I am afraid that-"

"-he is not very good at it,-"

"-as humans breathe so loudly."

"Indeed." Glorfindel blinked, piecing together the information he had received. He was forced to remain dignified, and so he refrained from laughing, instead choosing to chuckle softly.

"Why do you not go choose another target, and avoid the archery range? I do not think it is quite as safe here as one would believe."

As if to prove a point, a sudden stray arrow soared between Elrohir and Glorfindel, barely missing the dark-haired elf.

"Sorry!" Called a distant elf, looking thoroughly apologetic.

Elrohir was irked and then noticed Glorfindel's grin.

"I am wearing armor." The blond explained.

"Ah.. I see. We shall take Estel elsewhere.."

"Good idea." Glorfindel nodded.

"Come Elladan, Estel, we shall find Ada."

'Poor Elrond..' Mused Glorfindel, dodging another wayward arrow without even a glance in the direction of the range.

"'Ro, she was most definitely looking at me."

"Nay, she was looking at me."

Estel rolled his eyes. The banter between the twins had resumed, each attempting to prove himself more worthy of the young elf maid's affections. Estel wondered what was so wonderful about her. From his standpoint (that being the only one that mattered) girls were icky and silly; all they ever did was talk about hair, tea parties, Glorfindel and gowns.

Eventually they reached the open, green area where Elrond was working, and their debate died down. The elf lord was seated on a stone bench, wearing his formal robes as he poured over formal documents, reading them hastily before putting a wax stamp of approval on each. The pile where he was taking documents from on the left was much bigger than the finished pile on his right, and already he was rubbing his temples. Was everyone so incompetent that they could make no decisions on their own?

Apparently.

"Alright, Estel," Elladan pulled him aside and squatted so that he would be eye level with the child, "here is the plan;"

Elrohir did the same, "We shall distract adar,-"

"-and then you will sneak up on him,-"

"-and smear the mud into his face."

"But not just any mud-" Elladan grinned.

"-Mud from this one," Elrohir stepped aside to reveal to Estel, The Black Puddle, knowing that the tar found in that particular puddle would not wash easily from Elrond's robes. Particularly not the formal velvet robes he had donned this day. It wasn't their fault that Estel just happened to tumble in that puddle.

Estel blinked, "But that won't wash out."

"We know."

"But don't worry, ada is wearing old robes today. And you see, this particular mud.. uh.." Elladan sought to find a reason Estel would believe.

"Is very good for the skin. Adar will appreciate you doing it." Elrohir provided.

Estel crinkled up his nose. "It smells bad though."

"Have you seen ada's wrinkles?" Elladan asked.

"Many girls do it to get their skin smooth." Elrohir agreed.

"Girls are strange."

The twins had to agree with Estel on that comment, but didn't make a remark about it. Instead they dragged him to The Puddle, and gently pushed him towards it, grimacing as their delicate elven senses were assaulted by the overwhelming stench.

Estel did as he was told, pleased that he could make his adar happy by making his wrinkles go away. Besides, it would be fun!

Elladan almost quivered in anticipation. The look on his face! Their pranks had really died down in recent years, but this would make up for their inactivity - or at least a weeks worth of it - and be a good one because they would bypass getting in trouble for it by pointing their fingers at Estel. Elladan and Elrohir had been the bane of all adult members of Imlandris since they could speak.. or was it walk? No.. even as infants they had a tendency to yank on and chew hair. Before that, they took great pleasure in crying for no apparent reason. Well - having to leave a warm, comfortable womb and enter the cold, harsh world was a bit traumatic - but that was hardly reason enough for them to wail as loudly as they did. The midwife had said that meant they were healthy babies. Elrond had then thought that he would rather not have them learn how to speak. Ever.

With a quiet, delighted - though disturbing - cackle, Elrohir watched Elrond scribbling away. "Go now," He whispered to Estel, pushing him aside. Estel made his slow way around the small clearing, staying hidden in the brush. A sudden 'Snap!' sounded and Elrond lifted his head, dark eyes scanning the area.

Winking at his twin, Elladan made a shrugging motion with his shoulder and, for he was double jointed, he managed to make it seem quiet effectively dislocated.

"Adar! Adar!" Elrohir hollered frantically, running to Elrond with his brother in tow. "Elladan's hurt his arm!"

"It hurts!" Elladan cried, making a point to grab at his arm and attempt to fake some tears.

Elrond sighed and promptly forgot the sound he had heard, directing his full attention towards his sons, "And what have you done this time? Get shot during archery practice?"

"He fell off his horse."

"I was pushed!"

"Either way, allow me to see it.." gently Elrond reached to his son's sleeve, and rolled it up. Elladan grimaced falsely, and held his arm even more cautiously.

"Adar, that hurts!"

"I know.." Elrond dismissed him, looking hard at his arm, then he paused, "It appears dislocated.." He admitted, prodding it to make certain.

From behind them, Elrohir looked beyond and gave a nod to Estel, crouched in some thicker plants.

"Yarrgh!" Cried Estel, bursting from the brush and wrapping his muddied arms about Elrond's middle. Then he reached up and shoved a fistful of the tar-like mud into the elf-lords' face.

There was a pause as Elrond touched his face.

Could the twins have seen Elrond's face beneath that, his expression would have been priceless. Even so, they keeled over and clutched their sides, laughing hysterically. Elladan's arm was put back into place with a sickening 'pop' and Elrohir was on the ground, roaring with laughter.

Wiping the strange substance from his eyes, Elrond looked down to see his attacker as being Estel. A very muddy, dirty Estel who had now transferred most of that mud to his robes. And apparently, in the process, his papers. Elrond daintily covered his nose, 'What is that smell?'

Then he noticed the tar-like substance on Estel. 'Oh.. that was it..'

"Now you can have pretty skin - without wrinkles." Declared Estel happily.

The elf-lord blinked in confusion. "Wrinkles?"

'Do I really have wrinkles?' Elrond worried, and cursed his Edain blood.

But he was quickly pulled from that thought when he heard the howling, giggling and snorting from his other two sons and realized the true evil genius. Or evil geniuses rather.

"One moment please, Estel." He gently moved the twelve-year-old human aside, and brought an intense, level glare upon Elladan and Elrohir. Though much of the intended effect was lost with the dripping mud, Elrohir caught The Look and stammered.

"Elladan is well now adar, we shall be leaving." Elrohir mumbled, grabbing his twin by the collar and sprinting away with him in tow.

With a loud Quenya battle cry, Elrond leapt up in pursuit of his elder sons.

Estel, meanwhile, was left behind bewildered, "Girls might be strange, but sometimes ada is stranger."


End file.
